I am Haunted: Living Life Through the Dead (9 page)

Aaron has a ritual that involves shaving his head with a rusty old Ginsu knife. Okay, I made up the Ginsu part, but he does shave his head. That’s really all I know about what anyone does to prepare—and all I want to know. Lockdown day is a personal thing, and we respect one another’s space.

In the days leading up to an investigation, I like to put myself in the shoes of the people whose spirits I’m trying to contact. I walk where they walked, sit where they sat, and feel the objects that they held dear. I really enjoy re-creating past events, too. Reenactments enable us to tune into the energy of that era, which gives us a better connection to the spirits. People criticize us for not getting straight into the investigation and taking up part of each episode with reenacting an event from the past, but there’s more to paranormal investigation than putting on the equipment, going into a building, and walking around. You have to get into the right frame of mind and
feel
the location, and reenactments help us do that.

One of the most important things I do before an investigation is listen to the music of the time. For me, music is the key to lockdown prep. I like to listen to tunes that are relevant to the culture and the location: the blues in Mississippi, Creole in New Orleans, bluegrass in Kentucky, battle hymns in Gettysburg, and Native American music on reservations (I
love
the soundtrack from
Apocalypto
). Athletes often wear headphones on the day they have to perform because it gets them in the right frame of mind, and I’m no different. Anyone knowingly walking into an event where he has to be at peak performance wants to shut out the world and focus on the task at hand, and music really helps him do that. I take it one step further by using music to better understand the time, place, and people I’m trying to connect with, and maybe even bring us closer together before a lockdown, instead of just walking through the house and calling out their names. I believe that music is embedded with emotion, and if I can get myself on the same emotional level as the spirits, then we can make a deeper connection. I guess I use it both as entertainment and as part of the job, but I owe it to everyone to make every effort, no matter how small, to build that bridge between myself and the spirits.

I’ve always loved music because it’s so powerful. Whether it’s from the past or the present, music has the power to unify and comfort us. It can connect hundreds or thousands of people in an instant, whether they’re sad or swaying or dancing all at the same time. We can lose ourselves in it because it enables us to exhale all the stress from our lives. Like cleansing your palate after you eat something that tastes bad, listening to music on lockdown day helps me flush 2014. It helps me clear my head of all the texts, calls, and emails I have to return, all the bad news on TV, and all the social media mentions that flood my feed.

Besides listening to music, I take time to meditate and organize myself to baseline my blood pressure and my thought process. There’s a little more to it than that, but I can’t give away all my secrets.

What’s weird about lockdown day is the drive to the location. When it’s time to meet up—call time is usually 7pm—we ride together, but the atmosphere is different. The goofy times are over. The setup is complete. The interviews are done. It’s time to get dirty and do what we do best. We feel like a SWAT team in a van driving into a serious situation. It’s a little tense because we all know it could be a dangerous night, and our only protection is our spiritual armor. We aren’t really open with each other about how we protect ourselves individually. It’s interesting that we keep quiet about it, actually, but it’s a personal thing—prayers, cleansing, whatever processes we have we keep to ourselves.

After filming more than 150 shows and completing hundreds of investigations, I know how serious an investigation can be, what dangers we expose ourselves to, and what we can bring home to our families. We’ve dealt with possession, oppression, attacks, and all kinds of emotional swings, from extreme sadness to massive joy. We’ve all cried at one time or another, and we’ve even refused to continue an investigation because of how badly we were being affected. We never know what we’re in for, but one thing’s for sure: We can’t go into
any
location unprepared.

Depending on how far away the lockdown is, I also use the drive time to prepare technically. It’s probably a little bit of a defense mechanism to keep myself from thinking about the dark forces I might come in contact with, but it’s my nature to check and double-check everything. So many things can go wrong, and as the lead investigator, I have to guide the team and make sure we deliver a meaningful and complete investigation and a professional product. There’s a lot of pressure to deliver. It’s stressful, but I’m always up to the challenge. So the drive to the location is hectic in my mind as I go through all the things that need to happen. Nothing is going to fall apart on my watch.

If someone is having a bad day, it sometimes comes out on the way to the site. Just before the Houghton Mansion lockdown, Nick and I nearly got into a fistfight over something so insignificant I can’t even remember what it was now. When you’re around the same people for so long, these things happen, but like any group of people who are tested and come out on top, we’ve evolved into a brotherhood. In the end, I have their backs and they have mine, even if we have a few dust-ups from time to time.

When we get to the location, I usually make sure that the production staff has blacked out all the windows, shut off all the lights, and cleared the area. Then I check with security to make sure that there haven’t been any violations of the property. Some locations are still open to the public before we begin the lockdown, like the restaurant in the Lemp Mansion or the
Queen Mary,
so we have to take measures to make sure that people don’t taint our evidence. At Union Station in Kansas City, the crew was supposed to get everyone out before we started, but for some reason that didn’t happen, and our investigation of the main level was contaminated. We thought we had captured an apparition, but it turned out to be a real person who hadn’t left the building yet. I was pissed, but it happens, and there’s nothing you can do but move on…after uttering a few four-letter words.

Once in a while it all goes completely wrong, and we have to place the blame where it belongs: on the shoulders of the location managers. If they don’t clear the place out, then we have to come right out and say that a piece of evidence isn’t paranormal and the location isn’t haunted after all. A successful production almost always starts with a good contact person who’s willing to help. I love it when we have location managers who are grateful for us to be there; they always make the experience so much better. When they don’t give a damn, everything turns out bad. We try not to make it known on camera, but it’s not always Disneyland.

My last stop before a lockdown is usually the nerve center, where I make sure that the equipment checks have been done so that no technical problems arise. I hate to say it, but friendships get put aside at this point. It’s all business from here on out. When the investigation starts, I’ll be demanding and controlling, and the guys know it. Being responsible for the show means that sometimes I have to be an asshole. This operation ultimately falls on my shoulders and no one else’s, so I can’t be weak or have low standards.

In the end, lockdown day is like a perfectly choreographed circus of logistics, technology, and people. The smallest mouse being out of sync will cause a chain reaction until the elephants bring down the big top. The credibility of the Travel Channel and the reputation of
Ghost Adventures,
which we take very seriously, are constantly at stake, so it takes a lot more work than you might think to bring you an entertaining episode and a meaningful investigation.

I SINCERELY HOPE WE HAVE DONE THAT
AND WILL CONTINUE TO DO SO
EACH AND EVERY TIME.

A walk in the park goes bad.

Lockdown day is supposed to be my day to get right with the world, but the world has no obligation to cooperate, and sometimes things go very wrong. Now that you know what we do on lockdown day, let me tell you a story of one that got a little out of control.

We were filming at the Mustang Ranch outside of Reno, Nevada. I had a few hours to kill before heading over to the site, so I took some time to get away from everyone and relax. We were staying at a hotel in downtown Reno—a casino, I think. I didn’t venture out much because I’m honestly not a big fan of Reno. I love Lake Tahoe and Virginia City, but Reno has really gone downhill. My experiences there have not been good, and this trip didn’t boost its standing on the best-places-to-visit list.

The hotel was close to the Truckee River, which runs through the center of town, so I finished a workout, strapped on my headphones, and went for a walk. Everything was peaceful, and I even posted on Vine how good I was feeling when fate slapped me in the face.

I was walking along an elevated sidewalk near a wooded area when three people—a woman, a medium-sized guy, and a very dirty Andre the Freaking Giant—stumbled out of the woods. I knew immediately that something wasn’t right. Their mannerisms were off, their eyes were bugged out, and they looked all around in paranoid fashion. They spoke in gibberish and had trouble walking in a straight line, so I kept my eye on them. I’m always wary of unpredictable people. We all joke about people who act weird in public and say things like, “That dude is on drugs,” but these three were poster children for public intoxication.

But I laughed a little, too. I thought to myself,
Check it out…crackheads coming out of the woods, ha ha.
The joke faded when Andre the Giant started toward me and said, “What the fuck’s up with you? You got a fucking problem?”

And all I wanted to do was take a walk.

I took my headphones out and he repeated himself. “I said, what the fuck is wrong with you? You got a fucking problem, dude?”

Everyone faces a confrontation at some point in life and is forced to make a decision. In a split second, you have to weigh the risks and rewards of each course of action and choose one. Swing fists? Tackle him? Tickle him? Call the cops? Walk away? Run away? Confuse him with logic? So many options, but in the end there are really only two: fight or flight. You either stand your ground and fight or turn and walk away.

To me, a street fight depends on a lot of variables. You can’t just say that you’ll never back down or walk away. Every situation is different. This guy clearly wanted to throw soup bones, and even though his two friends were urging him to move along, I was inclined to oblige. I don’t take lightly to people messing with me or starting a fight for no reason, and I’m a little hotheaded. Maybe I should have walked away, but the part of me that hates bullies reacted, and since I had just finished a workout, my testosterone was through the roof. So, looking back on it, there probably was no decision to be made. I was committed from the start.

“What’s
your
problem?” I put my arms out and returned his question. Here I was trying to relax before an investigation, thinking I was going to catch a quiet walk through Reno and listen to some Sade and make some Mother Nature Vine videos of baby ducks, and the next thing you know I’m being challenged by some whacked-out fucktard. This guy had ruined my peaceful moment, so I wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily. I walked toward them slowly, and he continued to jaw-jack while his friends tried to convince him to move on. But he wasn’t having it.

“You don’t want any part of this, dude,” the gal said. “Walk away.”

“I’m on a public street,” I replied, with my fists ready. As I got closer, the giant looked more like the lovable monster from
The Goonies,
but there was nothing cuddly about him. I was thinking one punch KO at this point.

I just can’t live with myself when I leave a situation and feel like I got bitched or bullied. I learned long ago that nothing scares a man more than another man who stands his ground when he shouldn’t, so I stayed firm and walked toward them, while the girl kept telling me that I wanted no part of this. I honestly don’t know why I kept approaching them after they’d clearly made the decision to walk away, but I did. Maybe I was just angry—angry that someone had spoiled my peaceful moment, angry at being disrespected, and angry that younger people were being dicks to their elder. The day I first stood up for myself flashed back in my mind. I wanted them to know that they had made a mistake, and maybe they’d learn something from it. Or maybe it was just about me. I’m not sure.

They walked briskly to an intersection, with the girl pushing the big guy on and the other man remaining quiet. The light turned green, and they hustled through it to create distance between us. I spotted a pair of bike cops and changed tack. Maybe a fight on a busy street wasn’t the best course of action after all, and Johnny Law could remedy the situation. But when I told them I hadn’t been assaulted, they took off like they didn’t care. In retrospect, they didn’t have any reason to arrest these jackholes other than my accusation that they were high. In my mind, this was probable cause, but what did I know?